Unseen Sparks
by slenderpanda597
Summary: This is not how Serena expected her Bonfire Night to go. She finds she doesn't care. Implied PTSD.


(a/n – just a short idea I had because today is Bonfire Night and also I definitely think we need more exploration of potentially affected by PTSD Bernie.)

Unseen Sparks

This is not how Serena imagined her Bonfire Night to go. When she started out the day, she had imagined getting home from her shift at the hospital by around 6:30, before making and having dinner with Jason, and heading down to the organised fireworks display which was happening at the local park for about 8. Jason was very excited, and she did not want to disappoint her nephew. She herself was very excited for the display, which every year was a colourful delight.

After a long day of treating various burns from people who had stupidly decided to start their celebrations in an early manner, usually with cheap knockoff fireworks which were not safe at all, Serena was not expecting the sight which met her when she walked into her shared office. It had just got dark outside, and she could hear the bangs and pops of fireworks outside the hospital: families who wanted their children to experience the delight of sparklers and rockets before bedtime. And, given away by the coat strewn across the floor, evidently discarded in haste, Bernie Wolfe was cowering underneath her desk, hands above her head and every single one of her muscles tensed. Serena didn't know how to react. A series of bangs were heard from outside the hospital, and the ex-army medic shook. Serena immediately dashed to her, dropping onto her knees (and ignoring the cracks they made). Bernie's eyes were filled with panic.

"Bernie. Bernie! Look at me." Serena shook her arm gently and made eye contact. "Bernie, are you okay?" Serena expected what was happening, but wanted Bernie to tell her herself. Another series of bangs from outside. Bernie looked at her, panicked. Her lips moved but she couldn't get any words out. It was in that moment that Serena knew that Jason was going to have to adapt the plans for the evening. Gently tugging on her co-lead's arms, Serena smiled at her gently. "Come on, Bernie. You're not fit to drive. Come home with me." Bernie's eyes met Serena's. They were filled with panic and another emotion which Serena couldn't place. Eventually, Bernie brought herself out from under the desk, and got her coat on, before leaving with Serena.

Serena thought driving with Jason as a passenger was bad. He couldn't drive, but was very critical of speeds and red lights. But driving with a panicked Bernie was a different situation entirely. At every flash and bang from the fireworks in gardens as they drove along the roads, Serena thought Bernie was dangerously close to taking control of the car and performing an emergency manoeuvre into some poor old couple's front garden. Serena understood why Bernie was so clearly terrified, and considered it a small miracle when she got Bernie through the front door of house safely. Jason appeared.

"Hello Auntie Serena, you're fourteen minutes late. Oh! Hello Dr Bernie. Are you coming to the community bonfire and firework display later too?" Bernie's breathing was erratic, and Serena gently smiled at her nephew.

"Bernie is going to have dinner with us, and then maybe stay over because she doesn't feel very well. I will stay here with her, Jason. You can go to the bonfire by yourself, can't you? It is only in the park down the road. I'm sorry for the change of plan." Jason nodded. He could see how visibly distressed the other woman was.

"Okay Auntie Serena. Get well soon, Dr Bernie."

Throughout the evening meal, Jason chatted excitedly about the mechanics of fireworks and the history of Bonfire Night. Serena kept her eyes on the woman next to her whilst making noises of assent and interest in her nephew's direction. Bernie forced herself to eat the food in front of her, while there was little sound of fireworks outside given that most people in Serena's neighbourhood were waiting for the organised display. After the meal, Jason left the house excitedly, promising to be back home for eleven. Serena turned to Bernie.

"How about a cup of tea?"

They're sat sipping tea in Serena's living room when Bernie finally speaks.

"Thank you." Her voice is strained and rasping. "But I should probably leave."

"You'll do nothing of the sort." Serena responds. "For a start, the organised display starts in five minutes and I can assure you that there are a lot of loud fireworks. You need to stay somewhere safe. Here."

"The memories." Bernie looks at her, eyes searching Serena's for something. Serena doesn't know what it is, or if Bernie finds it, because a loud whistling noise from outside accompanied by a flash of red light which pierces through the curtains leads to the trauma surgeon ducking to the floor. Serena feels her heart ache. What this poor woman must have been through. There's a gap in the noise, and Serena knows that they'll be lighting the fountains now (she's been every year, it's the same company that puts on the spectacular show ever year) which gives her enough time to gently coax Bernie up from halfway underneath the coffee table and lead her upstairs. There, Serena is faced with a choice, and the decision she makes she swears is based entirely upon logic and not upon the unseen sparks she feels shooting inside of her as she tells Bernie what is about to happen.

"Bernie. You're going to stay in my bed tonight, with me. Okay?" Bernie looks at her, her eyes filled once again with panic and something Serena can't place.

"I'll be fine. I'm fine. On the sofa." Another bang from outside and the trauma medic stiffens. Serena can see her counting her breathing pattern, and knows that the woman before her is fighting a losing battle to control her demons.

"Bernie. You're clearly going to struggle sleeping tonight as it is, and the spare room is at the back of the house, closest to where the display is. Come on, I don't bite, I promise." Bernie makes a strangled gulp at that, and Serena feels her face flush, and before she can help herself, the flirtatious quip slips off her tongue. "Well, I don't bite usually." More unseen sparks, hotter than any firework, shoot around her core. She tries to ignore them.

What should have been an awkward process is made less so by the loud booms from outside again, which find Bernie running into the en-suite, and Serena following after, opening the door a crack and slipping an old t-shirt through the gap. When Bernie emerges in another break from the noise, Serena is already tucked into her bed, and the emotionally exhausted army medic falls onto the mattress beside her, pulling the oh-soft sheets around her chin.

Serena should be annoyed. She's missing one of the highlights of her year. Instead, she's sat staring at the ceiling, knowing that the woman beside her is doing the same. A series of loud cracks one right after the other. One of those fifty shot rapid-fire firework cannons, most likely, Serena thinks. Bernie clearly thinks differently, thinks the sound is something else she remembers from her past, because the noise which leaves her throat is the most painful sound Serena has ever heard in her life (and she has heard a lot of painful sounds, working on AAU). Bernie is physically shaking beneath the covers, and Serena slips down with her, letting the darkness enclose them. She reaches out and strokes Bernie's back, the unseen sparks in her stomach fizzling out and being replaced by concern for the woman so desperately scared beside her. Bernie relaxes into the touch, and her soft sobs can be heard amongst the rest of the noise of the evening. Serena doesn't mention them, and instead continues so soothe Bernie as best she can with her hands, stroking her back and her hair and whispering comforting words to her.

Finally, finally, the fireworks stop, and Serena never thought she would be grateful for the firework display to end. She hears Jason crash in, and shouts goodnight to him through the door. Then she turns back to Bernie, who has fallen into some form of slumber, clearly worn out. Serena allows herself to fall asleep with Bernie beside her.

Serena is pulled from her sleep by a choked wail, and she soon realises that the woman beside her is stuck in a nightmarish world of dreams. Serena wonders how many times this has happened, how little sleep Bernie runs on. Bonfire Night probably hadn't helped. Serena leans into her, gently pulls her from the darkness of her head, and pulls Bernie to her, rubbing her back comfortingly as the army medic's breathing slowly returns to normal. The third time it happens, sometime creeping towards three in the morning, Bernie manages to gasp a strangled thank you into Serena's neck. Serena feels a couple of tears slip from her eyes as the monumental scale of Bernie's pain hits her. Bernie isn't just scarred physically, Serena realises. No, the scars on her skin are shallow compared to the deep ones running through her mind, all the way to every war zone Bernie has ever been to and back. As the trauma surgeon drifts back into unconsciousness, Serena plants a soft kiss to her temple. She wants nothing more than to care for this woman until she no longer feels the pain she currently does.

Serena wakes next morning with a weight on her chest. Quite literally. Sometime between the last nightmare and dawn, Bernie has planted herself across Serena, her hand on her waist and her cheek on her collarbone. Serena smiles at the feeling of Bernie's hair against her skin. Never before has she seen her big macho army medic look so vulnerable. Serena likes this new side to her. Serena never thought she would ever wake with anyone in her arms, besides Elinor when she was very little. She could get used to this, she thinks. She wants to wake up next to Bernie every morning, wants to chase away her night time fears. The woman stirs in her arms, and presses a kiss on Serena's neck. Serena freezes slightly, then sees those beautiful eyes staring up at her from underneath a mussed fringe, and smiles.

"Good morning," she whispers.

"Morning yourself." Bernie replies.

And neither of them will ever admit to initiating it, will always claim it was a joint manoeuvre which set them on the path they will walk and stumble upon in the future: two pairs of lips are pressed together, eyes closing in satisfaction as something feels right between them, and those unseen sparks return to the stomachs of them both. Those unseen sparks which they will continue to feel for as long as they are together.

~finite~

(a/n – I am publishing this without editing so apologies. Feel free to review and favourite etc!)


End file.
